Truth in a Variety of Images
by Peregrination
Summary: Draco grows clumsier every day Potter is absent. HD.


Title: Truth in a Variety of Images

Author: perries

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: H/D

Disclaimer: Of course, I own nothing. All characters, etc. are property of J. K. Rowling and various publishers. Title and headings are from _selected poems 1942-1952, _by William Hull.

Summary: Draco grows clumsier every day that Potter is absent.

_1. when bending lulled eyes_

Being his closest archrival, Draco tends to notice things about Harry Potter. Like how he ruffles his hair when he isn't paying attention to lectures, or the downward looks at his plate when the Weasel and his mudblood sit too close together. Or the way he doesn't show up for meals or classes the day after the seventh year January trip to Hogsmeade.

Actually, even Pansy picks up on it, despite her usual technique of pretending he doesn't exist. At breakfast, Draco carefully chooses a piece of toast and neatly places it onto his plate. Pansy leans over and whispers in what she must believe is an intimate manner, "Think Potter's finally figured out no one wants him here?"

Draco rolls his eyes, leans a little away from Pansy's morning breath, and neatly carves off a sliver of butter a quarter of an inch thick. Blaise leans over the table and squints at Draco's plate.

Blaise frowns. "You haven't got any fruits or vegetables".

Draco distractedly points with his knife at his orange slices and stares across the room. Granger and Weasley seem to be bickering loudly, but their voices are drowned out by the hum of breakfast talk and the clattering of forks and knives. He looks back down at his plate and evenly spreads his butter.

_2. jerk open to judas-kissing eyes_

In his NEWT-level Potions class, Professor Snape assigns a particularly difficult compound. He reflects aloud as the students work silently.

"Most of you will fail entirely."

Draco slides his blade through the fine threads of manticorn tissue.

"_Iras Dominae_ requires absolute concentration and mastery of the subtle nuances of potion-brewing

Making a careful, controlled flick with his wand, Draco lights the fire underneath his cauldron.

"_Every_ _single_ _ingredient_ must be neatly sliced, in perfectly equal quantities."

Draco tips his pieces of waterwhisk ferns into the calm liquid inside the cauldron.

"As in every well-made potion, the components must be added in the correct order. However, they must also be timed to be included at intervals and allowed to simmer to a certain time to the _second."_

Professor Snape pauses at Draco's table to glance down into the cauldron. "Well done, Mr. Malfoy." Draco allows himself a brief smirk before beginning to pour a sample into a smaller flask. As he reaches out to hand it to the professor, he glances absently down at Snape's grade book.

There are two zeros next to Potter's name, for two days absent. Professor Snape grabs his wrist as Draco fumbles with his flask. It falls lightly on the desk. Draco's face is blank as he apologizes, picks it up, and gives it to the professor.

_3. blinded more by tiger-rage_

Draco peels off his sweaty Quidditch gear as he stands in the locker room. Twenty minutes after the Gryffindor-Slytherin match, and Harry has not reappeared. Draco fumbles with the laces on his shoes and ignores the cheers of his teammates.

The littlest Weasley played substitute seeker. Draco, hovering above her, had watched her fly for a few moments. She wasn't bad, but no match for the more experienced boy, and the game had been quick.

Draco waits for the euphoria to sink in. He visualizes Potter's face upon returning to Hogwarts as he struggles to unbutton his shirt. Distracted by the stubborn little clasps, Draco forgets about winning, and by the time he remembers, any potential glee has dissipated into the musty air of the locker room.

_4. that tortures night into murder-curling blades_

Draco has always been a curious boy. He tried to learn about cooking and baking from the house elves, until his mother found out and banned him from returning to the kitchens. Later, he read through the Malfoy library, until Father discovered him and banned him from the books, as well. Draco settled for wandering the halls of Malfoy Manor, exploring old rooms where all the furniture was covered by sheets and peering at paintings of scowling ancient relatives, voices lost as the enchantment wore off over centuries.

He single-handedly corners Granger and Weasley after lunch on the fourth day, no small feat. They won't reveal anything, though, and he receives only scathing looks and baffled aggression for his efforts.

Potter has been gone for ages. Draco mollifies himself with the thought that he can always satisfy his curiosity when Harry himself returns, but he wants to know where the other boy is _desperately_, and he wants to know _now_.

When he returns to the dungeon, Vincent and Blaise are playing Exploding Snap. He stalks through the common room, frustrated, and in a fit of temper knocks over their growing tower. He regrets this as it explodes in his face.

_5. there's hiatus:_

Draco's bag falls apart at the seams during Transfiguration. His robes rip during Care of Magical Creatures. At lunch, he spills pumpkin juice on Pansy and the floor underneath her, and slips on it as he walks out.

He skips his afternoon classes and spends the time having a lie- down in the quiet of the empty dorm room, after deciding it would be impossible to break anything else if he wasn't moving. He'll be in trouble when Snape finds out, but at the moment it's impossible to worry about anything so meager.

Draco stares at the green drapes around his bed and runs through his careful stock of Things He Knows about Harry Potter. The way he ruffles his hair when he's bored. The looks when Weasley and Hermione get too cuddly. How Harry has been absent for five days now, probably on some sort of hero-of-the-wizarding-world-Boy-Who-Lived business.

Lazily tracing zig-zag patterns on his blankets, Draco decides something has to be done about Harry Potter, when he returns. _If_ he returns. Draco probably has time to formulate a nice plan. Two or three weeks will suffice.

_6. with shock of such pursuit_

Harry is at breakfast the next day. There are shadows until his eyes, but he laughs with Weasley and Granger. Draco stabs at his peeled orange with his fork until it slips off his plate and onto the floor.

When Draco walks by Harry's desk in Charms, Harry drops his quill.

_7. the solid plane disintegrates_

Draco sends Harry a note to meet him in the Arithmancy room after curfew by way of a Gryffindor first year who won't look him in the eyes. He's sick of waiting, sick of obsessing, sick of slipping and dropping things and messing up everything he touches.

Harry is there when he arrives, arms crossed over his chest. As Draco walks in, Harry is already asking, "So what's all this about, then? Random summoning for clandestine meetings in the night- it's a bit odd, even for you, Malfoy."

Draco wonders if it's a good sign that Potter has clearly prepared some opening lines.

Closing the door quietly, Draco keeps walking until he is closer to Potter than he has ever been before, when they weren't trying to inflict as much damage as possible. As close as he wanted to be back in Madame Malkin's shop, separated by robes and history and a million other prejudices. As close as he's been dreaming of while he's been dropping his belongings all over Hogwart's halls. As close as he can get.

Harry's eyes are narrowed, but the other boy doesn't move away. Draco reaches up and pulls him down, wraps one hand around his neck. He kisses Harry, presses his lips against Harry's, and waits for only a second before Harry has one hand on his back and another in his hair and is kissing him back passionately.

At least one thing is going perfectly, after a week of disasters.

Harry's hands are warm on Draco's stomach, and his teeth bite gently at Draco's bottom lip. Draco moans quietly into the other boy's mouth and rocks against him firmly, once, twice, again. He hears, vaguely, some sort of crunching, snapping sound. There is a warmth about Harry, like he's burning up in fury and desperation and lust all at once, and Draco thinks he's going to explode any minute now like some sort of Muggle firecracker at a parade or a show or something amazing, something wonderful, something perfect.

He feels warmth trickling down over his scalp and through his hair, and wonders if kissing Potter will always feel like this. His eyes are closed when the other boy pulls away, and he opens them drowsily at Harry's snicker.

"SEVENSIES IN THE ARITHMANCY CLASSROOM!" yells Peeves, hovering behind Harry's shoulder. By this point, Harry is holding in laughter with one hand, and Draco tries to straighten out his hair.

He pulls away his hand, covered in sticky green ink. Draco looks down to see the shards of an ink bottle on the floor, and his eyes widen. Harry extends an arm covered in dark green spots to pull Draco away from the wall before Filch arrives.

_7.5. and mind refuses parachute._

Harry's hand is warm against his own, and as they run, Draco doesn't slip once.


End file.
